


A knight in shining armor

by Miss_Kitten



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Mention of Murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6755443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Kitten/pseuds/Miss_Kitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip and reader form an alliance after they both openly admitted to their crimes. Reader, who Philip considers somewhat fragile, apart from an ally gains a protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The record finally stopped spinning when Philip jerked it out of the gramophone. With eyes filled with confusion you looked around the rest of the residents. Their faces were pale, their expressions shocked and disbelieving.

“I need a drink,” you muttered weakly and headed upstairs, to the living room, where you poured yourself some whisky. You didn’t care if anyone followed you – you knew very well that soon they all would be here anyways.

“Lies! Awful, awful lies!” miss Brent called as she entered the room, justice Wargrave with a help from Blore walking in after her, the rest of men slowly filling the room. Some of them – with Lombard as the first one – fetched themselves drinks, too. You sat next to miss Brent, gazing curiously at the gathering.

You were calmer now, initial surprise left you and you were waiting for the explanations to start. You were well aware that those – and it was the bigger part of the residents – who needed to convince the rest of their innocent would proceed to talk very soon.

And so they did. One by one, they spoke, excuses and half-truths escaping their mouths in a waterfall of poor attempt to clarify their deeds. “This accusation is false!”, “I never did such thing!”, “My conscious is clear!” and such filled the room and you were trying very hard not to start laughing.

“It was pinpoint accurate about be,” Lombard told calmly, with that smirk of his plastered at his face and you quirked your brow, impressed by, finally, straight and sincere confession.

And then all eyes turned at you, screaming for you to speak, to justify what you were accused of. You took a sip of your drink, before you opened your mouth.

“Guilty as charged,” you announced pompously, making everyone’s, except Philip’s, jaws drop. He looked impressed, as you did just a moment before. “I will not give you some pathetic justification of what I’ve done, simply because there is none. I did it, and I am not ashamed of it.”

“You’re a cruel, heartless woman!” miss Brent growled. Her cheeks began to flush with heat and her eyes were shooting lightning at you. “God will punish you!”

“Oh, will He?” you asked sweetly narrowing your eyes at her. She lowered her eyes at her hands, running away from your angry gaze. “And where was He when drunk men stared at my bossom? Where was He when the owner put his dirty hands on my backside? There was no God in words of those men, while they described what will they do to me, should the owner of the pub finally make me their toy. Would your God like me to share my body with those filths, miss Brent? Willingly? Let them use me as they wanted? Because I couldn’t agree on that, and if God is real, I hope they all burn in Hell,” you finished harshly, glancing at your glass. It was empty, so you stood up and walked to the table where a bottle was sat.

“Y-you set fire there?” Blore asked, his voice quiet.

“Yes, I did. It was easy while everyone was drunk and sleeping,” you opened the bottle and poured the liquor into your glass. Philip came to your side, sliding his empty glass, which you filled as well.

“You don’t seem to regret it,” he said, his voice teasing but curious.

“I don’t, and I’d do it again,” you assured, glancing at him. “And you? Why those twenty-one men died?”

“Diamonds,” Philip answered quickly, winking at you, and you heard miss Brent gasping behind you.

“You’re a terrible man! Terrible, terrible man!” she exclaimed accusingly as Philip walked by her to lean against fireplace. You once more took a seat next to her, rolling your eyes.

“You’re so ready to judge, miss Brent. Isn’t it something your God is supposed to do?”

She opened her mouth to respond, yet you were interrupted as Anthony, who came to the table to re-fill his glass, started to cough and, when you turned your eyes to look at him, you noticed something red coming out of his parted mouth.

“He’s bleeding!” you shouted, standing up to help, but doctor Armstrong was already by Tony’s side. However, he couldn’t do a thing, because young man collapsed, choking, to the floor and a moment after he was gone.

Before you could even think of what had just happened, with one swig you finished your drink and left the place, quickly walking to your bedroom and you closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you panted heavily trying to proceed through recent event.

Your heart was racing, your blood pumping – you heard it in your ears – and despite witnessing it, you were unable to believe that Anthony was dead. It wasn’t supposed to happen – he was young and strong, he couldn’t just simply choke on a drink and fall.

Minutes passed and you were slowly settling down when a silent, almost hesitant knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Who’s there?” you whined, not liking how miserably and afraid your voice sounded.

“Philip. May I come in, Y/N?”

“Sure,” you murmured, opening the door and stepping aside to let him in. Philip entered and you closed the door, facing him immediately.

“Tony?” you asked, hoping that what you saw was a mistake, but Lombard shook his head, sadness hinted in his gaze. You felt tears gathering in your eyes.

“But what happened? He looked fine.”

“Doctor Armstrong is suspecting an overdose. We searched his room and found cocaine. But Blore and I smelled almonds,” he added, and you nodded, realizing what that meant.

“He was poisoned,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you fought back tears, feeling more in control as you swallowed them. You blinked few times and suddenly Philip was right in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, enveloping you in his embrace.

“What are you doing?” you frowned, stiffening as he caught you off guard. You didn’t expect that from someone like Philip, yet his embrace was comforting and soothing and after a moment you gave up and relaxed against his chest, laying your head on his shoulder.

You let out a sigh as you weaved your arms loosely around his neck, closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat, a strong and steady sound, which gave you calmness.

“Don’t you worry, Y/N, I’ll protect you,” you heard him mumble as he placed a feather-like kiss atop of your head and you laughed.

“What?” Philip asked, surprised.

“I purposely burnt a building with men inside it, Philip, I think I can take care of myself,” you jested, making him smile, yet his eyes remained concerned.

“You were quite shaken back there,” he moved one of his hands to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as he fixed his eyes on yours, “and I know you don’t need a man to guard you, but could you at least let me be your guardian for the time we’re on that island?” he asked gently, so unlike for him, without even a hint of tease or arrogance. He appeared to be genuinely concerned and, because of that, you agreed, nodding your head.

Then, you rose on your feet and pressed your lips briefly and ever so gently against his, parting to place your head on his shoulder once more, nestling in his arms. Philip started to rub your back, every now and then kissing your hair and you found yourself completely tranquil.

And even if you were all to be slaughtered here, one by one, you felt that having Philip as your ally wouldn’t do your any wrong.

He was your protector and that made you feel safer.


	2. Holding out for a hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Justice Wargrave's body, reader tries her best to figure out who the murdered is, with Philip's help.

With eyes filled with shock and terror you looked at a man sat in a chair. It was justice Wargrave, mockingly dressed as a judge. A shiver run down your spine, cold sweat appeared on your forehead and you turned away from the view.

“I c-can’t,” you stammered to Philip as you stormed off, heading to your room. It was too much, far beyond what you were able to bear.

Six of you were dead, six of ten guests were murdered in a way to resemble the nursery rhyme.

Your eyes immediately landed on the poem hung on the wall.

_Five little soldier boys going in for law; One got into chancery and then there were Four._

….and the next line said:

_Four little soldier boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three._

“Red herring,” you whispered under your breath. You fixated your eyes on that line, reading it over and over again, trying to find what was wrong with it. Or any lead to another death, because you were sure there would be next one.

“Or it won’t,” you straightened your back as realization hit you. It was a mislead, something to divert your attention – the killer might have followed the rhyme with previous deaths, but perhaps it would be over now, because of it all was a red herring, a false trail.

With that discovery, you ran down the stairs and into the dining room, where the gens were sitting.

“A red herring,” you panted, trying to catch your breath, relief washing through your body. Their eyes instantly focused on your flushed face.

“What?” Armstrong barked, giving you a disdain look.

“Four little soldier boys going out to sea, a red herring swallowed one and then there were three,” you recited, stressing the name of the fish, watching as they finally heard it.

“There are no red herrings in Devon,” Blore muttered, blinking rapidly and you chuckled.

“Nor there will be another death, it’s all just a mislead,” you moved your gaze on Philip, who was sitting at the head of the table, staring at you with wide opened eyes.

Out of sudden, he jumped from his seat, with two big steps neared you and brought your face to his, crashing his lips onto yours, taking your breath away. The kiss was quick yet intense, and when he parted you needed a moment to steady yourself since he made your head spin.

“I knew you were smarter than them,” he whispered silently so you were the only one hearing it and you gave him a dazed smile before he went to fetch some drinks, shouting merrily about celebration.

Blore and Armstrong exchanged a long, meaningful look after they shoot you a suspicious one. You knew they weren’t trusting you nor Philip, thinking that you and him had some strange alliance, since the first evening. They weren’t wrong, you agreed on Philip being a sort of protector of yours, yet you were aware they were presuming you might have something to do with killings, as you openly admitted to your crimes.

However, when Philip came back with glasses and alcohol, nothing could stop any of you from celebrating your undoubted survival.

Or it seemed it was undoubted. After a healthy dose of drinks and a bit of Anthony’s cocaine, Blore and Armstrong opened up before you and readily confessed that they indeed had done what they were accused of. You knew it already, believing that anyone brought on that island was guilty, but having them admitted to it was somehow relieving. You were now on equal terms, none of you could lie anymore.

But, really, could you?

“I think Armstrong killed at least Mrs. Rogers,” you mumbled into Philip’s ear as he swayed you in his arms, not even bothering to follow the music.

“And I think you drank too much,” Philip replied, letting out an airy laugh as he gazed at you.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not sure about other deaths, but he could give Mrs. Rogers too much of sleeping medicine and no one would know, right?”

“Y/N, you’ve said it’s a red herring not so long ago.”

“Yes, but someone was behind all those deaths, Philip, and we need to know who!” you whispered angry that he didn’t understand you. Drunk men always miraculously  lost their mind and that always annoyed you.

You sighed.

“I am now going to my room to try to find out who the killer is,” you announced with stern, cold voice as you stopped and freed from Philip’s embrace. He gave you a confused look.

“Goodnight, gentlemen!” you called to Blore and Armstrong, receiving an answer in kind, and you slowly headed up the stairs and to your room, shaking with irritation.

Philip wasn’t so stupid to think that it was over. Someone killed those six people and there was still a chance that it was someone among you.

You took out a cigarette and lit it, blindly staring out of the window. You were convinced that Armstrong could have killed Mrs. Rogers. No one questioned his diagnoses and decisions about medicines – frankly, none of you knew anything about his profession, at least not enough to play smarter than him.

But, even if Armstrong was guilty of Mrs. Roger’s death, it still left passing of five people a mystery. And that was why you needed Philip’s help. You couldn’t solve it on your own, yet apparently he wasn’t able to assist you in any way.

Smashing the butt of the cigarette in an ashtray, you walked to the door when you  heard a knock.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Lombard’s voice reached you from behind the door and you swung it open, stepping aside to let him in. You folded your arms over your chest after you closed it, fixing your eyes on Philip’s face.

“Okay, I admit, you are right,” he mumbled finally, letting out a long breath.

“Thank you,” you stepped to him, planting a kiss on his cheek, gaining a crooked smile from him. It was important for you to feel that Philip was fully on your side and now you felt better and calmer as he agreed with you.

“And I think Armstrong didn’t kill everyone, although he might have cooperate with the murderer.”

“He’s not clever enough to plan that whole show,” Philip added, sitting at the bed and starting a smoke. You sat next to him.

“Precisely. And I don’t think an addict would have a hand sure enough to kill. Also, he was genuinely shocked when Tony died.”

“Blore is above suspicion, too. He is smart, but he truly regrets beating that boy to death.”

“You might have done it,” you mused, dabbing your lips with a finger and Philip frowned, turning his gaze at you.

“I’m flattered, Y/N, but why would I try to gain your trust then?”

“To pull the wool over my eyes. You would be able to control be easily, to make me defend you when someone would throw an accusation at you,” you shrugged and Philip’s jaw dropped.

“My God, you are really smarter than any of us,” he murmured, disbelief and a hint of admiration filled with voice and you felt as your cheeks heated with light blush. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was you. You’re an amazing material for a murderer,” he said, half-jesting, winking at you.

“Well, you know how to compliment a lady, now don’t you?” you chuckled, twitching a bit as Philip’s arm wrapped around your back, pulling you a bit closer to him. It was a comforting touch and you relaxed into it, nestling your head in the crook of his neck, lying one of your hands on his tight as he rubbed your shoulder.

“We’ll find out who the killer is, Y/N. We just need to stick together, that’s all.”

“I’m afraid we might not have too much time, Philip. The rhyme can be a mislead, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

A silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Both of you simply needed to think that whole situation through, to look through the possibilities and decide which one of them was less and most possible.

You sighed, feeling defeated after what seemed an infinity of considering various scenarios, one crazier than the other. Nothing led you nearer the solution and you tilted your head up to look at Philip. His eyes were closed, he looked as if he was sleeping.

You drew closer to his face, shifting slightly to be able to place a delicate kiss on his lips. Much to your surprise, he responded to it, gaining a soft moan from you as his mouth moved greedily against yours.

“What are you up to, Y/N?” he asked, out of breath, as you parted from him.

“I need to clear my mind,” you panted, not thinking twice as you straddled him, resting your hands on the back of his neck and brining his lips to yours once again, devouring him as desire started to rise within you. It might not be the best idea, but you didn’t know how else to get rid of unnecessary thoughts.

And it seemed Philip thought the same as his hands crept under your skirt and up your tights to rub against your heat. You cried into the kiss, feeling intoxicated by his taste; dazed by his ministrations between your legs and you grasped on his shoulder for dear life as he moved his mouth onto your neck.

You felt yourself ready to feel him inside you and you lowered your hands to unbuckle his trousers when a loud knock on your door invaded your ears. Tearing yourself from Philip, you jumped on your feet, opening the door immediately.

Blore glanced quickly at Phlip, then turned his gaze at you.

“Armstrong is gone,” he snapped and Philip quickly walked out of your room and after the officer, you hesitantly following suit. You didn’t want to be alone, not when a killer was still somewhere out here.

Yet your mind was clearer now and when you heard a disturbing noise behind your back, you already knew. What if…

“What if the killer is believed to be dead?” you mumbled, more to yourself, but both men halted.

“What?” Blore asked, his brows furrowed.

“I believe, gentlemen, that I know who is behind all this. We are being served justice by the very justice himself.”

“Wargrave…” Philip panted and you nodded. Blore was still confused, but you were sure he would soon add two and two.

The question was, what to do with that knowledge?


	3. I can be your hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip, Blore and reader manage to capture Wargrave and get out of the Soldier Island, yet reader and Philip are not eager to part just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a smut part in this chapter :)

“We should split and search the rooms,” Blore suggested as he finally accepted your discovery.

“You, men, and your drive to boldness,” you laughed bitterly and both Blore and Philip looked at you with puzzled expressions, “we should stay in a group. Killing one person is an easy task, mister Blore, but three…”

“She has a point, Tubs,” Lombard said, raising his brows and Blore, evidently dismayed, nodded. You knew it was hard for them to admit that a woman might be right, but Philip was aware that you were able to think fast and come up with ideas they couldn’t.

“Then what do you suggest, miss Y/N?” the officer asked coldly, making you sigh.

“Search the rooms, yes, but not separate. We might be attacked at some point and the rhyme says something about a bear, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Since when we’re following the rhyme again?” Blore snapped, surprised, “You said it was a red herring.”

“The killer wanted us to think that,” Philip explained calmly, although you noticed that his jaw was clenched and his eyes lit up with anger and impatience. He was a man of deeds, not words, and you knew he wanted to act instead of discussing every detail. You looked at him, silently asking him to wait just a bit longer.

“There was a bear’s skin in the library,” Blore suddenly whispered and the three of you exchanged a look and, as if on a cue, all of you headed down the stairs and to said room, at the same time hoping that it would be over and fearing that it might be the opposite and that your assumption was false.

_____

You were now sitting in the dining room. Justice Wargrave was captured in the library after all, in the midst of preparations for another murder. At that moment, he was tied to a chair at the head of the table and the three of you were sitting by one side, next to one another.

“Why?” Philip asked for a hundredth time, pointing his gun at the Wargrave, who gave him only an amused smirk.

“Do you really not know, mister Lombard?”

You narrowed your eyes at the Justice, trying to solve the puzzle. You knew it couldn’t be hard, however there was something missing, something Wargrave did not mention before.

“That evidence you talked about, the one only you knew of… what was it?”

“Ahhh, good, dear Y/N. I hoped it would be you who eventually see it,” he praised, bowing his head slightly and you trembled, both repulsed and somehow fluttered.

“It was a journal. That man I sentenced to death was writing down everything, shamelessly describing what he felt and experienced during his acts. And I must admit, I was thinking how I would feel were I to kill someone. I was tempted to follow his lead and I knew he understood my desire. It took but a single look into his eyes before he was hung to see it.”

“To take away a life, to have such power… None of you can imagine how ecstatic it feels…”

“Good God,” Blore panted behind you and you guessed he looked just as you felt – terrified to the bone, cold and shivering, frightened by Wargrave’s confession. He looked pleased with himself, that smirk of his plastered on his face, his eyes filled with pride.

“But why the rhyme?” you asked, your voice hardly louder than a whisper. Under the table, Philip reached for your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I did not want to simply kill, I wanted it to be unique, theatrical, I wanted people to admire me.”

“You’re a sick man,” Philip barked, hatred hinted in his voice and you laced your fingers with his, supporting him in a way he supported you.

“Indeed I am. I am dying, mister Lombard. And now, if any of you may, I need to take my medicine.”

______

Two days later you were taken off the island in boats. Someone (you presumed it was planned by Wargrave, too) called the police and the officers came to the island, assuming the worst.

Thanks to your skills in deduction, they had found three people watching an old man tied to a chair, taking shifts in sleeping only. Justice Wargrave was silent during his transport, but as you were giving testimony on a station, the officer who was listening to you mentioned that he had confessed everything.

As for the three of you, there was no point in sticking together any longer. Your nightmare had ended and you were able to go back to your lives and try to forget about what had happened on the Soldier Island.

Blore had invited you and Philip to his house on a country but you knew he did not truly mean it. He wanted to leave it all behind and start anew and you did not blame him. You wished for the same. He took the earliest possible train back home.

Philip and you decided to stay a day longer, in case the police needed something from you. And, to be frank, you were afraid to be away from him. He was your guardian, your supporter, your sanity, and you  feared that without him around you, you would fall in some kind of madness, unable to cope with the consequences of the events on the Island.

It seemed Philip wasn’t too eager to separate from you, as well. When the two of you arrived at a hotel, he didn’t even have to ask you -  he took a room for two, and he lead you there not only a moment letting go of your hand. And oh how you needed this, you needed him to assure you that he wouldn’t leave you alone, not yet.

When in the room, you sat on the bed, placing your suitcase next to you. Philip stayed at the door, unsure of what to do next.

“Do you need anything to eat?”

“No, thank you,” you answered, smiling weakly at him, “but you go. You’re probably starving.”

“You’re right, I am starving,” he admitted, chuckling quietly and you joined him with your own laughter. He opened the door, but didn’t walk out.

“Go, Philip, I’ll be fine,” you assured him and only then he went out, giving you a worried look.

You reached to your suitcase and took out a nightgown. It was already getting dark and you felt beyond exhausted. A good, long sleep was what you needed. You took a quick bath, and slid under the duvet with a book in your hands. You were looking at the pages, but your mind was elsewhere, once again you were in a mansion on the Soldier Island, entering vast hall.

And, despite your efforts, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Philip came back after two hours. He glanced at you – you were lost in your thoughts, staring at the book, yet he was sure you weren’t reading. His concern grew, but he decided to give you some time and went to bathroom to prepare for the night.

You didn’t register when he came back or that he took a bath. You didn’t fathom when Philip crawled onto the bed and shifted closer to you. What pulled you out of your state were his arms, wrapped around you, his head resting on top of yours.

“What will happen to us now, Philip?”

“We will carry on, Y/N. It takes time but we will accept our past and learn to live with it. You are strong, you will bear it, I’m sure. I know I will.”

You handed him your book and he put it on a nightstand. You weaved your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

“I don’t want you to go,” you finally voiced your fear, your voice shaking, weak and filled with sadness.

Philip sighed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered and you tilted your head to gaze into his eyes. They were sincere, and, much to your surprise, you found there as much dread as you felt. It occurred the two of you needed one another to remain sane.

You met his lips in a desperate kiss, wanting to forget about the Island for a moment, to be lost in something else than guilt and sorrow. He responded in an instant, moving his lips against yours with equal passion, keen to give you what you needed and to receive what he needed as well.

Soon enough, the room filled with soft moans and shallow breaths as you and Philip gradually got rid of each other’s clothes. You were now lying naked beside him, your head thrown back as his lips marked your neck with fervent kisses, his fingers traveling over your body, exploring your curves, kneading your flesh, stroking and teasing. You were burning with desire, eager to feel all of him.

He rolled on top of you, encouraged by your whimpers and the way your fingernails grazed his skin. He slid a finger over your heat, making sure you were ready for him, and then he eased inside you, parting from your lips to look at your face.

“Oh, Philip,” you cried as he filled you to the hilt, a strangled groan escaping pass his mouth. You felt him throbbing within your walls as he waited for you to adjust and you circled your legs around his waist.

It was enough for him and so Philip started to move, his pushes strict and powerful. He was pumping into you with a perfect angle, instantly discovering your most sensitive spot, which you were announcing with loud moans every time he slid back in.

You grasped on his shoulders when your orgasm neared you, and Philip found your breast and cupped it, kneading ever so gently. Quickening his pace a little, he was letting out more and more muffled grunts and you knew he was close to his peak, too.

He twisted your nipple between his fingers and that was it – you came undone, calling his name, quivering underneath him as bliss crashed through your body and Philip, feeling your walls clenching around him, met his climax as well, growling your name as his head dropped onto your collar bone.

Panting, you moved your hands to run through his hair as he was catching his breath, too. You felt a bit better, numb and sleepy, yet the burden that was clouding your mind was gone, at least for now.

And it appeared Philip was ridden of his burden as well, as he looked at you with a gentle smile, tenderly brushing his lips against yours. He might not be able to admit that loudly, but he needed you as much as you needed him, and you were ready to stay by his side for as much as he or you wished for. And from the way he was gazing at you, you were pretty sure it would be quite a long time, but regardless -  you were more than happy to simply be with him.

He was your hero after all.


End file.
